


The Testimony On His Skin

by c3mf



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, BDSM AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c3mf/pseuds/c3mf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin Crieff has always known what he wanted in life. He has always known what he would have to give up because of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Testimony On His Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cabin Pressure fic meme [here](http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/3282.html?thread=4477906#cmt4477906). 
> 
> Branwyn's [Unconventional Dynamics](http://archiveofourown.org/works/369324/chapters/601375) series was so very inspirational, beautiful, poignant and so delicately written. If you haven't read it yet, you really need to.

The pain used to highlight the pleasure, narrow the world until his blood sang with the want of it. He used to cherish the feel of the whip on his skin, the lingering sting which left his flesh tender and sweetly aching. Now the thought of that kind of pain at someone else’s hands turned his stomach and coursed panic, swiftly sharp and burning, through his veins. He longed for the submission he could never have, but he was pragmatic enough to know he couldn’t ever trust anyone but himself with his needs.

He had learnt to accept the desire sitting hollowly in his chest, carved out in an empty space beneath his heart, just like he had learnt to cope with hiding his legal designation. The whole of his life was built on denial and secrecy. He didn’t see any reason why any of that should change now. 

He had also learnt (with some great difficulty) how to present himself as a dom when he needed, enough to fake his way through his testing and have the almost-rarely seen _Sw_ noted in all of his official documents, stamped in tiny, glossy letters at the bottom corner of his driving license. It might not have given him the unrestricted freedom of a dom, but there was enough leeway for him to at least allow him the kind of functionality in his life he knew he wanted. 

The affectation was tiring (downright exhausting if he were completely honest), but if that kind of posturing meant he could fly, then it was a price he was more than willing to pay. Sacrifice was a part of devotion, a willingness to surrender, every sub knew that. It was what every sub _wanted_ , the kind of relinquishment they could only ever find at the hands of a skilled and obliging dom. Yeilding was the credo of a sub’s life. So, it only made sense to Martin, that he should give up the fulfillment of one of his needs to chase another. 

Life wasn’t fair, he knew that. He couldn’t have both. He had gone so long denying himself the relief of his designation that the notion of never again kneeling at another’s dom’s feet or feeling the weight of supple leather cuffed around his wrists or the caress of the whip tracing his spine… None of it was as painful a loss as he thought it would be. He had gone for so long without any of those things, it was hard to even remember what they felt like. The yearning was hollow, dulled by memory into dusty shadows and ghostly touches. He could live with that. 

Besides, he only longed for submission when options, oppressing and unavoidable, hemmed in from all sides, when stress and anger and overwhelming need bore against his skin until he thought he would burst. Coping with the insistent pressure, the need for release, wasn’t precisely difficult; the denial of his own pleasure came easily. Contending with and stoppering up the will to submit, however, was torturous. It was the only thing he couldn’t fail at, because failure meant a collar and a cage. 

Subs couldn’t be pilots. 

Forsaking the stability of a sub life was agonizing, but giving up his chance at flight would have shattered him irreparably. He would rather be alone than broken. Without a dom, he could still survive. Without flying… He didn’t think he could ever learn to cope with that emptiness.

So he made certain he didn’t have to.


End file.
